


The Grand Strategy

by aestivali



Category: Ancient History RPF, Historical RPF, Roman Republic RPF
Genre: Blow Job, First Time, Frottage, Hero Worship, M/M, Power Dynamics, Uniform Kink, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 09:05:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2845541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aestivali/pseuds/aestivali
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every move Caesar makes is calculated - from his military advances against the Gauls, to the seduction of his wilful lieutenant, Antony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Grand Strategy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ars_belli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ars_belli/gifts).



By the time Antony finally ducked into Caesar's tent, he was considerably late. If it had been anyone else, Caesar would have been angry - but this was Antony. He had expected it.

"You asked to see me, Caesar?" Antony said casually, removing his helmet and dropping it on a chair. "Is it important?"

Caesar did not look up from where he sat. "Do you not consider all of my requests important?" he asked, tone dangerously light.

"Some more than others," said Antony, pouring himself some wine.

It was that kind of behaviour that interested him. That strange mix of respect and disrespect, disobedience and loyalty, that he received from nobody else. Antony was a puzzle, and working him out was endlessly fascinating.

"And the request to see me," said Caesar, looking up at last, "that was less important, then?" He wondered how far he could go. Anyone else would already have taken his tone of voice as a warning.

Antony sipped his wine. "The recruits needed my attention," he said simply.

"So you consider those below you more important than those above," he suggested, trying to draw something from him.

"Nobody is more important than you," said Antony - and Caesar would have thought it a joke, if not for the way Antony then immediately looked away. His cheeks looked a little flushed too. Interesting. That was not what he'd intended to draw out, but it was pleasing.

But it would not do to alarm Antony.

"Come, look at this map," he said, letting his voice return to normal. "I received a report today of movements in this area." He gestured to show Antony as he wandered over.

"Towards the hills?" asked Antony, peering at it curiously. "You think they prepare for an attack?"

"Indeed," said Caesar, looking up at him. "And I will need my cavalry to see it off."

"We will be ready," Antony said firmly.

"No doubt," said Caesar. Antony seemed to have collected himself, so he began to make his move. "The wine is good, I hope."

"Very. And I should know," said Antony, and took another sip. He was a striking figure; tall, well-muscled, his hair tousled but his armour immaculate. It suited him. 

"You are well-versed in the world of wine," agreed Caesar, steering the topic as he wished. "Yet in your armour, you look almost respectable."

Antony snorted. "As if I've ever been respectable," he said, and took another swig of his wine.

"And I truly hope you are not," said Caesar, standing. Antony looked at him curiously as he moved to stand before him. Caesar lay a hand on his shoulder, running his fingers over the smooth leather. "But like this, you look like the man I know you could be. A general. A leader."

"A hero?" taunted Antony. "You would be the first to ever cast me as such."

"Ah yes, we all know what they say of Mark Antony: drunkard, gambler, womaniser, the bankrupt son of a disgraced father, a man who can never exceed his own faults." From the look on Antony's face, Caesar could tell this was not the first time he'd heard such things said aloud. He paused, letting his hands rub over the polished buckles of Antony's chestplate. "We both know you are no hero. But I believe you could be more than a disgrace."

"Tell that to Gabinius," said Antony, and washed away the bitterness with more wine.

"I see no reason to. He is not your commander any more." Caesar let his hand drop, and turned away slightly. "And if he has so little insight that he needs to be told these things, perhaps that is why he is currently in exile."

"We cannot all have your political skill."

"Indeed not. But it could be used to support those I found worthy."

"And this is the man you would bet on?" asked Antony, gesturing to himself, a little incredulously.

"High rewards come from high risks, and I would not be as successful as I am without taking risks."

"I never thought you would trust to luck."

"I do not trust to luck. I trust to my own skill, my calculations, my ability to shape situations to my advantage. They have not failed me yet."

"And what if you meet resistance to your attempts to bring change? Others have sought to make it before."

"Perhaps they sought the wrong kind of change."

Antony stared curiously. "What do you want of me?"

"I want a lieutenant I can trust."

From the expression on his face, this answer was not enough for Antony.

"I do not wish to break you, Antony," said Caesar, laying a hand on his shoulder again. "I have only ever wanted to guide you."

"I hope you want to do more than that," said Antony, and it seemed perhaps he had an inkling of where this was going. "Or, for the first time, will the great Caesar disappoint me?"

Caesar chuckled. "The _great Caesar_ disappoints many people. Mostly those who wish to see him fail."

"But you have never disappointed _me_ ," said Antony, his eyes suddenly dark and serious.

"No, I do not suppose I have." Caesar looked at him evenly. "Your desires are too obvious and too simple to be disrupted by my politicking."

"Perhaps they are not all obvious," Antony said, quietly.

"To the casual observer? Perhaps not. But I am Gaius Julius Caesar," he said, leaning so close his mouth was practically at Antony's ear, "and I understand you perfectly." And with that, he slipped the cup from Antony's hand.

Antony froze, for the first time seeming hesitant. Caesar stepped back to place the cup on the table, to give Antony space - surely even Mark Antony was not used to being seduced by a man - and let him collect himself.

"I don't need to be understood," he said, after a few moments.

"No? But if I asked you what you need, you would not tell me."

"If you knew me so well, you would not need to ask," said Antony, the beginnings of a frown creasing his forehead.

"I do not need to ask," said Caesar, drawing himself up straight. This was the delicate moment. He had to call on Antony's vanity instead of his vulnerability. "And that is why you run from me now: not because you think I have misjudged you, but because you think I have measured you exactly."

"I am not running," Antony said darkly.

"No, you are not," noted Caesar. And the danger was passed. He had correctly predicted Antony's response. "Take the wine again, if you want it."

For a few moments Antony merely looked at him. Then he strode over to the table and grabbed the cup, taking a sip, all the while keeping his eyes locked on him.

"You are surprised to hear me speak so plainly," said Caesar, looking back impassively, "but you are a straightforward man, and I see no reason to deal in shadows with you."

"Maybe I would prefer shadows," said Antony, still the hint of anger in his voice.

"Yes, perhaps they would make you feel safer," Caesar said, off-handedly. "But I am not here to make you feel safe."

Antony near slammed the cup back down on the table, some of the wine sloshing out. "I do not need coddling. I am a soldier, and we are here to wage war."

Caesar remained serene. "And you are a good soldier, strong and able, but it takes more than that to survive the battlefield. Every time I send you into battle, you place your life in my hands. You trust that my strategy will not leave you vulnerable."

"There are vulnerabilities in every strategy," Antony snapped.

"Yes," said Caesar, perfectly calm, "and yet you trust me anyway. Don't you?"

"I..." Antony faltered. "I have never seen you make a mistake."

"And, I hope," Caesar said softly, "nor shall you ever." He trailed one hand over Antony's chestplate, tracing the smooth lines, his fingers drifting up to the buckles, and then to Antony's neck. Antony's eyes were wide and dark, and he shivered at the touch.

"Caesar - " he muttered, "Commander - "

"Yes. _Commander_ ," echoed Caesar, and leaned forward to press his lips to Antony's. The response was immediate, and welcoming. Antony raised his hands to tug lightly at Caesar's tunic, drawing him closer as the kiss continued, an unhurried give and take. When Caesar finally broke it, he did not pull away, but pressed their foreheads together.

Antony laughed softly. "I did not expect this meeting to go this way."

"Is that why you were late?" asked Caesar, teasing a little.

"I might've come earlier, if I'd known," said Antony, and chuckled.

Caesar let one hand brush against Antony's thigh. "Perhaps you will follow my orders more quickly in future."

"I think that depends on what they ask of me," said Antony, grinning at the touch.

"Nothing that was unpleasant," said Caesar, and slipped his hand under Antony's tunic to cup the growing erection through his underwear.

Gasping, Antony tried not to move. "I might follow them then."

"You might?" Caesar's tone was light, but his fingers began to stroke insistently.

"I will," groaned Antony.

"What will you do for your commander, Antony?" asked Caesar, hand tightening just a little.

"Anything," he gasped, pressing forwards.

"Anything?" said Caesar, sounding innocent. "I do not need a servant."

" _Anything_ ," he whined, trying to rut against Caesar's hand, to get the friction he craved.

Caesar shook his head, pulling away a bit. "I am not your master." 

"I don't want a master!" cried Antony, somewhat desperate now.

"Then you should not swear to follow my orders without question."

Disbelief was all over Antony's face. "You want me to disobey?"

"I want you to support me," said Caesar, calmly. "But I need to know you can be disobedient when it is necessary. As you were in Pelusium."

Antony seemed taken aback. "Pelusium...?" he repeated, voice uneven with the weight of his desire. "How is that rele- You weren't even there!"

"Don't tell me you're surprised that I know."

"I'm surprised you bring it up now," cried Antony, gesturing to the erect cock that Caesar had only moments ago been fondling.

"It is a tactical move," said Caesar, a wry smile creeping onto his face. "One that brings me closer to my objective, even if it seems to take me further away."

Antony frowned. "You're strategising me."

"I am always strategising. Surely you know that of me."

"What I don't know is why you mention Pelusium," said Antony, sounding a little grumpy now. "I wasn't disobeying you. I wasn't even disobeying Gabinius."

"No, you merely disobeyed the Pharaoh of Egypt."

Antony shook his head. "He was wrong."

"Yes, he was," Caesar agreed, stepping closer again. "And if circumstances meant one of my orders turned out to be wrong, I like to think you would disobey me." 

Antony inched towards him. "But when have you ever been wrong?"

For a moment, Caesar's eyes seemed to dance with light. His hand moved to rest on Antony's hip. "Do you not think all of Rome would say I was in the wrong, if they could see us right now?"

"Fuck Rome," Antony blurted out, "and fuck the rules."

Caesar laughed. "Yes, there is the disobedience I want."

Antony groaned and reached for him, hands grappling at his tunic. "And fuck what you want."

"Oh, I intend to." Caesar was grinning now. "So, Antony, I ask again: what will you do for your commander?"

"Anything," he babbled, pressing himself as close as he could. "Everything. Whatever I want."

Caesar leaned in, one arm grasping Antony's back as he slipped his mouth next to his ear, and whispered, "Show me." And then he stepped away.

For a moment Antony just stood there, hair dishevelled and expression bewildered, but then he licked his lips and grinned, and sank to his knees. Caesar suppressed a shiver at the sight of his officer kneeling before him, armour immaculate and expression delightfully wicked - he longed to reach out, to twist his fingers through those dark curls, but first he wanted to see what Antony would do.

He watched as Antony raised those large calloused hands to trace over his thighs, his touch unexpectedly light, but Caesar had little time to reflect on this before the hem of his tunic was lifted, and those eager fingers danced into his underwear. This time he could not suppress the shiver as they wrapped around his already half-hard cock.

"So you're not unaffected after all," said Antony, grinning.

"Still waters run deep, Antony," he replied, only his iron will keeping his voice level as those skilled hands began to _stroke_. "That does not mean they do not run at all."

"You keep everything beneath the surface," Antony mused, though his expression was teasing more than philosophical. "Perhaps it is time for me to dive in." In one swift movement, he pulled Caesar's underwear down, exposing that warm flesh to the air.

The unexpected friction as the fabric scratched over his soft skin was enough to wrest a gasp from Caesar's mouth. But the look of triumph in Antony's eyes was delicious, and he let him have it, finally sliding an encouraging hand into that inviting mess of hair.

At that touch, Antony inclined his head slightly to look up at him, pausing for a moment, and there was something in his eyes that even Caesar could not read - wonderment? hesitation? perhaps both - but then he was plunging ahead, giving up all reservation to slide his tongue over that hot shaft.

Caesar let out a soft moan, gently tightening his hand in Antony's hair. This display was beyond anything he could have orchestrated. He watched, with mounting desire, as Antony began to lavish attention on his cock, a lick here, a suck there, swirling his tongue over that sensitive skin - a sight only improved by the armour that covered those broad, strong shoulders. A symbol of his authority over this man.

And yet, and yet, this was all the better for being freely given. The untamable Antony _chose_ to bow before him. And in that uniform, more than ever, he was a beautiful image. The curves and planes of the supple leather highlighted his musculature, the power of his body, the strength that he exercised daily in Caesar's service. It was a heady mix.

When Antony slipped his mouth over the head of his cock and _sucked_ , it was very nearly too much for him.

"Antony, Antony," he said softly, tugging a little on his hair to pull him away.

"Caesar...?" questioned Antony, running his tongue over those swollen lips.

"I have other plans for tonight," he answered simply.

Antony paused, then nodded and got to his feet. Caesar gripped him as he rose, not wanting to let go, and felt a little tremor as Antony exerted himself - it seemed that display had affected him too. Pressing closer, Caesar felt the confirmation of that, nudging hard against his hip. His own mouth quirked into a smile. Antony's part in this was greater than even he could have anticipated.

Clutching hard at Antony's neck, he felt the unsteadiness in the man's stance and knew it was reflected in his own, so he drew them both back to stability by pulling him in for a kiss. But there was an edge of desperation to it now, a sense of raw need that had not been uncovered before, and at last Caesar gave himself over to it. Mouth moving over soft mouth, they grasped at each other, seeking more and yet more. Antony parted his lips, let him dip inside to taste himself, and he groaned as he found himself reflected there. It was not enough.

He moved his hands down to Antony's hips and pushed gently against them, encouraging him backwards - back, towards the bed. For a moment Antony clung, stealing another desperate kiss, but then ceded and began to step back, hands grabbing at Caesar's tunic to draw him back too. Caesar went, and then took the lead, pushing again, guiding, steering, until Antony's legs collided with the edge of the bed - and with one more push, half-fell, half-sprawled himself across the sheets.

Before he moved to lie upon him, Caesar took a moment to drink in the sight of Antony splayed before him. That tousled hair, those darkened eyes, the red-flushed cheeks. And that armour, which so complimented his form - the bold shape of the leather that clung to him, the clean lines only accentuating what lay beneath, the tunic rising just high enough to display a little thigh. So many times he had seen Antony wear it, had desired him in it, so long had it taken him to engineer this situation...

So when Antony reached up, hands moving to the buckles of his chestplate, Caesar said firmly, "No. Leave it on." Quickly, he climbed up the bed, pressing his body against the full length of Antony's, and distracted him with another kiss. Antony let go of the buckles to claw at Caesar's chest, moaning as they ground together. They both wanted more friction, more contact.

Slipping one hand down between them, Caesar carefully pulled up Antony's tunic and the skirt of his armour, letting his palm drift again over that covered erection. He teased a little, through the fabric, and felt Antony gasp into his mouth. But there were other things to be doing now, new things, so he peeled down Antony's underwear and drew out that hard cock.

It was hot and thick in his hand, and Antony collapsed back against the pillow when he stroked it, the tight grasp of his fingers drawing a moan from that defiled mouth. He loosened his grip and stroked again, more slowly, then suddenly fast once more. Antony's hips bucked beneath him, and he felt his own cock respond, a little neglected now.

He let go of Antony for a moment to draw his own tunic up, prompting a whine - and then a deep groan as he pressed himself down, let his erection grind against Antony's for the first time. The friction, the heat, it was all so delicious. As was the way Antony gazed up at him, his expression full of awe.

"Caesar..." he gasped, pushing his hips up again, hands scrabbling at that tunic, seeking exposed flesh.

One hand found Caesar's naked hip just as he made another thrust - and that was it, there was no holding back now. Antony clutched at him as he moved, skin sliding over skin, the sensation almost too much and yet somehow not enough. They rutted against each other, the pleasure building, each touch on their cocks taking them higher, the gasps for breath, the desperate fingers, the scent of sweat and leather, all driving them forward.

Caesar could feel Antony trembling beneath him, could see his dark eyes defocusing, and knew that he was close. He slowed his own movements even as he grasped Antony again with his hand, tugging hard and without relent. He wanted to watch.

Antony did not disappoint. As one stroke reached its peak, he shuddered under him, his entire body tightening, eyes squeezing shut even as the stroking continued. A half-strangled cry made it from his lips before he suppressed it, knowing even now it would not do to be heard.

But Caesar heard it, and if he had not been close before, he certainly was now. He pulled himself to a kneeling position and looked down at Antony, panting on the mattress, still in his armour, and began to tug on his own cock. After all that stimulation, it took only a few trembling jerks before he was coming too, spraying his seed onto Antony's leather chestplate as the sensation finally overwhelmed him.

When he came back to himself, he shakily moved to lie beside Antony, putting a little distance between them. Neither of them said anything for a while - nor had any breath to. They simply lay there, in content silence, both utterly sated.

After some minutes, Antony stretched, and turned his head to look at his commander. "So, Caesar, now that you have won another battle," he began, voice still uneven, "what do you intend to do with the spoils?"

Caesar laughed. "The spoils, as you call them, will aid my war efforts here in Gaul." He raised an eyebrow, and directly met Antony's gaze. "Will they not?"

Antony did not flinch. "I see no reason to doubt your strategy," he said, softly.

"I would call you a flatterer, if I did not know you as I do," replied Caesar, with a note of teasing.

"Ah, but you know everything," Antony said, casually, as he curled into the mattress, "and that is why I call you commander."

Caesar said nothing, but let a proud smile play about his lips.


End file.
